The Art of Love (11 page)

She saw him, just, as he leapt down from the cart and took the pony’s head. She could make out no features, but she was sure, by the powerful, easy grace with which the man moved that it was Leo. Her heart soared and she only just restrained herself from calling out to him. She willed him to look up, and perhaps she made some slight noise because all at once he stilled and raised his head in her direction. The moonlight gleamed in his eyes and she knew he had seen her. He did not wave or speak and neither did she, but it was enough, even at that distance his look was like a touch. She withdrew from the window and threw herself into bed, rapturous. Leo was here, and he knew she had been waiting for him.

Despite the long journey he had made by means of stage coach and then hired horse and trap from the inn at Wallingford, Leo woke up early the next morning, alert and ready to begin the day. He wasn’t surprised to find himself the first one down to breakfast, from what he remembered of the house parties his parents had held when he was a child, the gentlemen would be sleeping late, recovering from the camaraderie of the night before, and the ladies would spend a considerable period of time perfecting their appearances before being seen in public. Some of the women would even take breakfast in their rooms and not emerge until luncheon; he sincerely hoped Tara would not show such reticence.

Two footmen soundlessly appeared in the breakfast room bearing scrambled eggs, kippers, tea and toast. As he helped himself Leo found he was smiling at the thought of Tara. Although he had never yet seen her appear less than beautifully clothed and coifed, she had not had too much pride to lean out of her window at midnight, dressed only in her nightdress, to see him. At least he was almost sure it was her, he couldn’t imagine any of Rodney’s other guests doing such a thing. Surely someone so impetuous would not hide in her bedroom until the afternoon.

But Tara frustrated him almost as much as she intrigued him. It seemed that whenever he thought they were in perfect accord, she said something which reminded them how far apart their positions in society were. Her careless dismissal of the Frenchman’s eligibility as one of her suitors, for instance, suggested that she would never consider a man who had to work for a living a suitable husband. She was so unconsciously snobbish. Leo was proud of the way he had managed to build a career doing the thing he loved, although he was longing for the day when he could give up portraiture and concentrate on painting landscapes. He had amassed enough capital to do that very soon, possibly even this summer, particularly if he could get a commissioned landscape to begin with. But even if he did remain a portrait painter for the rest of his life there was no shame in it. He earned enough to support himself and a family in some comfort, he was well respected in the
ton
and every door was open to him. Yet at Freddie’s dinner party Tara had accepted Philippe La Monte’s presence without question, but she had thought he had been invited to make up the numbers.

Leo had to admit to himself that that was what irked him the most. To be seen by Tara as beneath a displaced French aristocrat - if indeed that was what La Monte really was, Leo had his doubts - when, empty though the title was of lands and income, Leo himself was a lord. He wished for the first time that he hadn’t been so reticent about using his title. He suspected that half his friends did not know he possessed it, but it had seemed so meaningless when he had first come to London, and whenever he had used it it had led to awkward questions about why a lord had to paint for a living. But now he wanted Tara to know he was a gentleman by birth while at the same time he was loathe to tell her himself. The last thing he wanted was to put himself on the same level as La Monte, trading on the status of a position which to all intents and purposes no longer existed.

As the scrambled eggs and toast took effect, Leo found his thoughts becoming more optimistic. He would not tell Tara himself, he resolved, but would simply hope that one of the other guests would mention his title in passing during the course of the week. There seemed to be a good chance of that happening, he thought, and found himself willing to leave it to fate.

The door to the breakfast room swung open and Leo’s musings were interrupted by the arrival of Rodney and Freddie.

‘Good morning,’ Rodney said cheerfully. ‘You said you’d arrive late, but I had no idea how late. It must have been midnight when you got here.’

‘It was,’ Leo said. Tara had been looking out of her window for him at midnight, that said something.

‘You look very smug about it,’ Freddie grumbled. ‘But you must have had even less sleep than I did. I’m not usually up at this hour, but young Hulme is very keen for us all to try out some horses this morning.’

‘Father recently acquired two new mares and a stallion,’ Rodney said through a mouthful of toast. ‘He doesn’t ride anymore himself, but he’s longing to know how they go. There wasn’t time yesterday and this afternoon I’m planning a little croquet tournament. But this morning is the perfect time to ride.

It was. Glancing out the window which looked east up through the rolling pasture and patches of woodland beyond the house, Leo remembered anew why he was so desperate to paint landscapes. The countryside glowed in the morning sunlight, a myriad of greens counterpointed by the gold of wheat and the blue, blue sky. He suddenly longed to be outside and could see at once why Rodney was so impatient to ride. After three or four months of city life the open spaces and freedom of the country called irresistibly.

‘Have you two finished then?’ Rodney asked. Leo glanced at the door, wondering when it was going to admit Tara. The he glanced at Freddie. It seemed unlikely that Freddie was ready to ride; he was just at that moment making himself a very weak cup of milky tea and had eaten nothing.

‘Soon,’ Leo said placatingly. He could afford to be sympathetic, by the time Freddie had finished the breakfast he hadn’t yet started Tara would surely have appeared. But Freddie let him down.

‘A minute, old chap,’ he said. ‘Just let me drink this down. I never have anything more demanding than tea or wine before midday. It doesn’t agree with my constitution.’

Glancing down at his empty plate, the knife and fork neatly together in the middle, Leo’s heart fell.

‘Good, good,’ Rodney said, cramming a last piece of toast into his mouth and rising from the table. ‘This way.’

‘I’m not exactly dressed for riding,’ Freddie demurred. Leo wished he could say the same, but in his plain cut jacket and breeches, he was ready for anything. All he needed to do was put on his boots.

‘I’ll wait for you here,’ Rodney said, his hand on the handle of the double French doors leading from the breakfast room out into the garden with its gravelled walks and the fading the spring roses, which even at that moment were being dead-headed by a diligent gardener.

Leo found he had no choice but to go and change his boots, he could only hope that Freddie, who did not seem to be a natural early riser, would keep them waiting and meanwhile Tara would come down to breakfast. He was back before Freddie, but only just and Tara was still not there. Leo’s heart sank when Freddie came in. He might lead a foppish lifestyle revolving around parties and gambling, only ever seeing the sunrise from the wrong side, but Freddie was no dandy when it came to his appearance and getting dressed to ride had been but work of the moment.

Rodney pushed the double French doors open wide and the light, warm breeze brought in the faint sounds of birds and bees and the metallic clip-clip of the gardener’s shears. ‘This way to the stables,’ he said.

‘Breakfast is in here, my lady.’ The butler’s voice floated into the room just as Leo stepped out, the door from the corridor opened and there was Tara, at last. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, and her muslin day dress, while perfectly respectable, was low cut enough to give the impression that as soon as she had a moment of privacy she would spring free of its confines and throw herself into his embrace. But as usual it was her face that held him. She was smiling at him, as if daring him to voice his outrageous thoughts, and, all thoughts of her disdain for his position forgotten, Leo found himself smiling back.

‘The stables are this way. Are you coming, Fosse?’ Rodney drew him abruptly back to reality.

‘A moment,’ Leo said, not taking his eyes off Tara. ‘I’ll meet you there.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rodney shrug and heard the crunching of the gravel as he and Freddie headed for the stables. He stepped back inside and he and Tara were alone in the dining room.

‘You were about to go for a ride,’ she observed, her voice low and musical.

‘It can wait,’ Leo said briefly. He wanted to broach the subject of last night, but it seemed too abrupt to say
Was it you leaning out the window looking for me at midnight?
‘You’re looking very… fetching this morning,’ he said instead.

Tara looked at him and started laughing. ‘I’ve never been called fetching before,’ she said, ‘It sounds far too decorous.’

Leo felt his eyes crinkle with his cat’s grin. ‘A more accurate description is not suitable for mixed company so early in the morning,’ he said softly and saw Tara halt herself in the act of serving scrambled egg to really look at him. The laughter, but not the pleasure, flowed from her face and he knew, despite her reservations about his position, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was across the breakfast room in two strides, gently relieving her of plate and serving spoon, intent only on taking her in his arms and kissing her.

‘Excuse me, sir. I was sent to take you to the stable. Sir Rodney says you’ve got to choose a horse.’

Leo whirled, all ready to send the serving man who had so rudely interrupted them soundly packing with a flea in his ear, but he felt his anger turn to resignation when he saw that the messenger was a stable boy of no more than ten. ‘All right, lad,’ he said and turned back to Tara. ‘By your leave?’ he said, taking her hand in his.

‘Horseflesh is a serious business,’ she said and he could feel her amusement at their untimely interruption; she did not seem as frustrated as he was, it was as if she was sure there would be plenty more opportunities for them in the week ahead. Perhaps she was right. Leo smiled at the warm, surprisingly firm hand in his, then he raised it to his lips and for the first time, he kissed her. Just for that brief moment all that existed were his lips and the back of her hand, she was his, that was all that mattered. Then he relinquished his hold on her and followed the stable boy out into the clear, bright morning.

Tara watched as Leo strode down the path, her heart singing. Leo wanted her, it was very clear. She couldn’t at that point in time see any way to make such a relationship work, but here they were, together in Rodney’s house for a week. It might be all the time they ever had, so she would make the most of it and not worry about the future. The future could wait, she could not.

‘Luncheon is served,’ the senior footman announced to the occupants of the green drawing room. Tara threw down her hand of cards with some relief. She had whiled away the morning trying to make conversation with Susannah and Antonia and had ended up playing whist with Rodney’s aunt Phyllis. But it had been clear from the start that Susannah and Antonia were quite wrapped up in their newfound friendship and that Phyllis had only suggested a game in an attempt to entertain her. Privately Tara resolved not to spend a morning this way again. If she found herself thrown back exclusively on the company of the ladies she would take herself off for a walk, Wallington Manor was certainly surrounded by enough beautiful countryside to keep her quite happy. Or better still she would go down to the stables and beg a mount. Phyllis must possess a side-saddle she could borrow.

But that morning she had not been able to bear to tear herself away from the house in case Leo returned. She should have known better, she chided herself as she followed the footman down to lunch. Once men got engrossed in something such as horses they tended to stay that way until something indisputable such as hunger or failing light, or in this case the lunch bell, summoned them.

When Tara entered the dining room Leo was already there, looking invigorated and lively after his morning ride. It was all she could do not to go straight over to him, but she was aware, with so many eyes upon her, it would not be correct. Instead she turned her attentions to their host. ‘I hear you have been riding,’ she said to Rodney.

‘Yes,’ he said as they were seated, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. ‘Father has bought a wonderful new stallion.’ Directly across the table from Tara, Leo slid into place.

‘Did you enjoy your ride, Mr Fosse?’ Tara asked. If she stretched out her legs she was sure she would be able to reach Leo’s feet with her own, but she couldn’t possibly do that, what would he think of her?

‘It’s not -’ Rodney started to say, but then seemed to get distracted by a word from Susannah.

Leo smiled at her and Tara felt her heart beat faster. ‘Greatly,’ he said. ‘The countryside is very scenic around here and I don’t get the opportunity to ride much in town.’

‘I don’t suppose you do,’ Tara said impulsively and then thought that perhaps she should not talk horses. In his straitened circumstances Leo had presumably never owned a horse or even ridden much at all, unless he had worked as a stable boy at some time. She wondered how she could find out if he had, tactfully, of course. ‘Have you had much to do with animals?’ she asked.

An odd look came over Leo’s face and a horrid thought struck Tara. What if his family had been very poor when he was a child? What if Leo had been a poacher? Poachers certainly had plenty to do with animals; he might think she meant that. She knew he had lived in the country, in Wiltshire, her own county. Suddenly a background in poaching seemed all too possible, after all, Leo had refused to be drawn when she had enquired about his family, and she wondered how on earth to change the subject.

Fortunately Freddie came to her rescue. ‘We’re to play croquet this afternoon,’ he said. ‘Will you be my partner, Tara? I fancy you’ve a stronger swing than any of the other ladies.’